


Coffee and Capitalism

by mechafly



Category: Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:13:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechafly/pseuds/mechafly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francisco and Hank have a straightforward talk about the next logical step in their friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Capitalism

Francis smiled and profferred the coffee pot in Hank's direction. But Hank was deeply agitated, and he refused in the gesture of pulling off his tie and throwing himself in Francisco's armchair, which always lay waiting for him by the fire, opposite Francisco's own.

Francisco was still smiling when Hank met his gaze moodly over entwined fingers. It was a look that said many things: You are the one who will understand, or perhaps The world is not with us today. Francisco smiled because he understood this man perfectly, and in his present he felt something of the perfect stillness that must have been attributed to the angels by the old religionists.

"Something wrong, Hank?" Francisco sipped from his own cup of coffee laced with liquer. The rich, heady flavour, first too bitter on the tongue and then melting into something infinitely pleasurable, seemed to meld appropriately with the sight of Hank, all worked up and frowning, before him. So Francisco enjoyed the view, and the sensation.

Hank sat in silence for a moment or two. "Is it something that can be talked--about?" He began haltingly.

Francisco reprimanded him gently. "You know we can always speak to each other of anything."

Hank met his gaze again, guiltily this time. "I know it." Then jerking himself away from Francisco's stare as if being burned, his strong, sinewy hands twisting in his grip. "Perhaps it's something that needn't be talked about. Not quite at the moment."

"Sex, Hank?" Francisco drained the last few rich gulps, chasing the dregs with his tongue in simple pleasure, and set down the cup. He then had the pleasure of seeing Hank blush handsomely. "I've never known you to be shy. Nor--ashamed." 

"Not ashamed," Hank bit back immediately. "Just." And Francisco knew exactly what Hank meant when the man stood up and leaned over him. Francisco grinned into the kiss and Hank chased away the heady remains of the coffee on Francisco's tongue. They parted lips a great time later, both of them rather flushed and bruised.

"You want to--take the lead," Francisco said, not a question but a frank statement. Hank merely nodded, as if no longer able to articulate his desire, and Francisco was feeling that way too. He kissed Hank again for good measure, then bit off a groan when Hank grabbed him by the belt-loops and pulled their bodies into close proximity. "Yes. Yes. Interesting. I want to."

"I knew you would," Hank said solemnly, letting go of him all of sudden, Francisco realised a scant second later, to undo his own belt.

"Here?" he said, with something of a flush of excitement rising on his own feature.

Hank merely looked at him. That Look held all the knowledge they shared between them--carnal knowledge, yes, but the deeper knowledge of a shared philosophy, of loving a man so deeply as to understand and respect and covet every thought of his mind and inch of his body alike. It was a look that said, we are Here, this is Atlantis, and there is no longer a thing to be ashamed of.

They knelt as if in supplication to this desire that was greater than them both, at the same moment, tongues tangling once more.


End file.
